Small popcorn, small Cherry Coke and a box of Cookie Dough Bites

Jeff and I went to the movies in Evanston on Sunday. And movies is plural here, because we actually stayed for two shows. Please don’t report us. We went to chill our brains out for a while, and also to see our favorite local improvisors loom large on the big screen for their bit roles, TJ, Susan Messing and Mick Napier, in the background of Let’s Go to Prison and Stranger Than Fiction. We cheered them on like nobody’s business. Stranger Than Fiction had me ruminating on the nature of comedy and how I was absolutely doubled-over dying at Dustin Hoffman, who was actually not saying anything funny. I also wondered about the ending (THE FOLLOWING SENTENCE DOES NOT ACTUALLY TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENS TO THE PEOPLE IN THE MOVIE SO IT WON’T SPOIL IT TOO BADLY), with its proclamation of life in uneaten danishes, raindrops, you know. Is that all there is? Because if so, I have been looking in the wrong spots.

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